Druid's Apprentice: The Philosopher's Stone
by xyvortex
Summary: Sequel to Druid's Apprentice. The order of the Pendragon enters Hogwarts for their first year. How will Damon, Harry, Ron and Draco avoid the Machinations of both Dumbledore and Voldemort?
1. Here we go

If you haven't read book 1, 'The Druid's Apprentice' you may be a bit lost. please do that first before starting this fic.

Druid's Apprentice: The Philosopher's Stone.

Chapter 1

The forest at midday was quiet; the summer's heat had driven its inhabitants below ground or to hid in the underbrush until the sun fell from its place in the sky. The unearthly silence was shattered by an excited scream as four figures crouching on slim boards burst into view and flew a zigzag course through the trees.

Breaking through the tree line the figures became recognisable to any causal observer as boys no older than ten or eleven. All were barefoot, wearing board shorts, t-shirts and carrying towels in their hands.

As they crested a rise the leader, a brown haired youth with deep blue eyes brightened and yelled to his friends, "Last one in sucks goblin toes!"

The four crouched even further down on their boards, coaxing them to go yet faster as they raced towards a lake at the far end of the valley. Still in the lead, the brown haired youth stripped off his shirt, wrapped it in his towel and dropped it so that it would land safely near the shoreline. When he got over the water he kicked off of his board, did a back flip, and wrapped himself in a ball to make as big a splash as possible when he hit the surface.

The boy had barely surfaced when three more splashes erupted around him. First up was a quiet, black haired boy with striking green eyes. He smiled at the other boy and yelled, "Second place!"

The last two, a blond haired boy with icy-blue eyes and a redhead came up sputtering and both claimed third.

"You're last Weasel," said the blond.

"Was not," replied Ron. "You'll be the one sucking on goblin toes Malfoy!"

"That's not what I've heard you've been sucking on," replied Draco with a wicked grin.

The redhead stared in shock at Malfoy's comment for several moments then with a wordless cry of rage he charged the blond and they began to wrestle and dunk each other in the water. To one side the other two boys watched with bemused expressions. The fights between Ron and Draco had become a constant game that neither seemed to tire of.

Turning to his friend, the brown haired boy asked, "So what do you think, Harry? Should we get in on this before they splash all the water out of the lake?"

The Raven-haired boy broke into a huge smile and answered with an enthusiastic "Yes!" Moments later all four boys were happily attempting to drown each other, unknowingly being watched, however from the shore by two tiny twinkling blue eyes.

Hours later the four exhausted boys lay drying on the bank, their boards all floating nearby and ready to be mounted at a moments notice. Stretching in the sunlight, the raven-haired boy named Harry said wistfully, "I wish this summer would never end." Turning his head to the brown haired boy beside him he asked, "Do we rally have to go?"

Sitting up, Damon stared out onto the lake and said, "You know, we don't. We could stay here and train ourselves in relative safety for years and Neither Dumbledore or Voldemort would be able to find us. When we finally did show up, Moldywart wouldn't stand a chance."

Harry sat up with a guarded look in his green eyes, "But…"

"But," Damon answered, "Dumbledore and the ministry have effectively crippled the wizarding world with this hero mentality. They have become a society of sheep. Without us there to slow him down, Voldemort will return to power and thousands, both muggle and wizard, will die by his hand."

"Can we all not talk about this right now?" asked Draco sleepily from his own patch of sunshine. "Tonight everyone goes home and the next time we meet up it will be us playing this idiotic charade you've dreamed up Damon."

"It's not idiotic," said the young druid. "Besides, it's grandfather's idea, not mine.

If anything could be said about Damon's grandfather, it would be that he was definitely _not_ idiotic. Over two thousand years old, the old man came into Damon's life when he'd been only five. Until that moment the boy had been in the dubious care of his relatives and went by his original name of Harry Potter.

Merrill, as the boy soon learned he was called, explained to him about Voldemort and Dumbledore as well as their individual designs for him. The old man also explained that he was a druid and that Damon, as his blood heir, had the potential to become one as well. Damon accepted the opportunity given him and began to form his own destiny.

From that moment on he lived and trained with his grandfather. The old druid created a changeling who took Harry's place at the Dursleys as not to rouse suspicion. At age nine, Harry's doppelganger was replaced through a complex spell cast by Merrill with a magically created twin named James.

James permanently took Damon's place at the Dursley's and for all intents and purposes became Harry Potter. It was at that point that Damon took his new name and identity as the grandson of Merrill Forester and Heir of a bloodline that could be traced back to before the time of the founders.

Over the next year he'd gathered to him what would one day become the core group of the Knights of the Pendragon. Harry, his own magical twin and the closest thing he would ever have to a real brother. Damon and he shared a single soul and neither felt truly complete without the other. Harry also served as the group's anchor, keeping everyone grounded and balanced.

Next was Ron Weasley, son of Arthur and Molly. A born Gryffindor, he would eventually become the group's strategist as well as their moral compass, though a bit headstrong and blunt for some people's tastes.

Last came Draco Malfoy, Heir to a family name that supported the belief that only those of pureblood descended were entitled to the name of wizard or witch. It was this stance of pureblood superiority that had drawn Draco's father into the ranks of a madman.

As the unknowing but chosen heir of Pendragon was unwittingly being groomed as the next leader of the wizarding world. The boy was extremely intelligent and clever but a bit bigheaded at times. If the boy were ever to gain balance he would need to learn humility.

Damon sat with his back against a tree trunk, idly listening as it whispered its secrets to him through the rustling leaves. He watched his sleeping friends and studied the nearly invisible white scar on his right palm, one they all shared. It was a galleon-sized circle with a rearing dragon within it, a mark older than Hogwarts- older, even, than Merlin himself. The Pendragon was an avatar of the earth herself in all her glory and power. The order, the knights and even the Pendragon heir were soldier's in her service to keep the balance of nature.

For now there was but the four of them but when they got to school the recruiting would begin, first one or two but eventually an army of knights sworn to uphold the code.

As if the mere thought had wakened it, he suddenly felt a familiar tingle in his palm as the normally faint lines of the scar began to glow. Damon quickly rose to his feet and pulled on his shirt as the others, roused by the same sensation, looked to him.

"Grandfather needs us back at the castle, lets go."

Half an hour later the boys entered the library of Forester manor. There they found Merrill sitting in a comfy armchair and watching the flames as they leapt in the fireplace. Seeing his grandson enter he let a quiet smile cross his face and said, "Boys… sit."

He waited for them all to settle down on the couch before continuing. "Tomorrow begins our charade in earnest."

Looking at Harry, the old druid smiled gently and said, "You'll have the roughest time of us all my boy. Tonight it is back with the Dursleys and in a few days you'll receive your first Hogwarts letter. Keep in mind that you are supposed to know nothing of the wizarding world… Oh yes, have a good time at the zoo."

The old man just smiled gleefully at the confused expression on the boy's face as he turned his attention to Ron. "Well Ronald, how are the memory charms I did on your family holding up? They should only remember your friendship with Damon and nothing of Draco or Harry this last year."

"It worked just like you said," replied the redhead. "Though I think Fred and George are suspicious somehow.

Merrill cracked a short laugh, "They're smart boys, I'd consider bringing them into the order but for the trouble they'll bring with them."

Draco spoke up as the old druid turned to him. "Mother and Father suspect nothing. We're lucky at least that we didn't need a memory charm. Outside of the dinner parties you keep throwing each other, father has been rather distracted. I think something must be going on at the ministry that has most of his attention.

Nodding, Merrill murmured, "Thank you Draco, keep your ears open for anything that might be of interest to us."

The old druid let his gaze roam from one boy to the next with a swell of pride and hope growing in his chest. Pausing a moment to give the occasion a bit more of a momentous feeling, he raised his weathered palm up and the glowing outline of a crouching dragon, identical to the ones the boys had, appeared.

"Just under seventeen hundred years ago I pledged my allegiance to Arthur and the ideals for which he stood. Together, we set out to remake the world in such a way that evil would never again hold sway. Arthur had the excuse of youth for not knowing better; I, on the other hand, was simply too proud to heed my calling.

"I was and am a druid, charged with upholding balance with all things. Yet by my hand that balance was unsettled and untold thousands paid the ultimate price.

"Over the centuries since that time I've sought to do better in finding equilibrium, attempting to influence the minds of countless leaders and at times even the people. Yet time after time the pendulum has swung this way and that, good and evil. Each time bringing us all so close to utter disaster that I shudder at the very thought.

"Now it prepares to swing again between the followers of Dumbledore and Voldemort. We can't stop it, in the grand scheme of things I don't think we're meant to. What we will do… what _you_ will do is minimize the damage these two will cause and prepare the people for what comes after."

Merrill turned for a moment and gazed into the fire. By the light of the flames, every line on his face was brought out and they all, except Damon, finally understood how old this man really was. "My time among you is almost at and end. Just a hand-full of years, though that must seem a lifetime to you, are left to me before Damon takes my place and I go to find my peace. It will fall to each of you to find among your peers, those who are worthy and fill the ranks of the knighthood."

Harry, Ron and Draco looked to each other uneasily as the old druid sat down. Damon wasn't surprised at their discomfort; it was rare for a group of eleven year olds to be told that it was up to them to save the world. Somehow, he thought to himself with grim humour, the next bit of news would meet with even less enthusiasm.

"Voldemort is at Hogwarts." Utter silence greeted Damon's announcement. The other three boys looked at him as if he'd grown another, rather hideous head, Merrill on the other hand simply watched in silence.

"W-what do you mean?" squeaked Ron, who was trying desperately not to hyperventilate. "He died when he tried to kill Harry… er, sorry mate." added the redhead glancing over at Harry.

"But he didn't die," said Merrill as he rose to his feet. "Not completely. When the killing curse rebounded from Harry it destroyed Voldemort's physical body but left his weakened spirit free to go in search of some way to regain his power."

"The point is," interrupted Damon as he brought the conversation back to the current topic. "When Grandfather took me to Hogwarts this summer to make sure I'm enrolled, I sensed him hiding in one of the teachers, a chap with a turban. We found out later his name is Professor Quirrell, the Defence Against Dark Arts professor."

At this, Draco snorted. "Now I know you're having us on. You're trying to say that Lord Voldemort, the darkest wizard of the last century is our defence teacher?"

"Pretty much."

"So what are we supposed to do about all this?" asked Harry.

"To begin with, we watch." answered Damon. "Something's brought Voldemort to the school and it must be important. Why else would he take the chance of running up against Dumbledore in such a weakened state? Everyone needs to keep their eyes open and watch the other's backs."

Merrill stood up and went to the hearth. He waved his hand over the fire and temporarily connected it to the floo network.

"Right then boys, the time has come. Draco, you'll go first. Ron as Damon and I will be escorting Harry home you will also be returning to the burrow this way."

The four spent several minutes saying their goodbyes until finally Draco separated himself from his friends and stood before the fire. "Father says we'll go school shopping on the thirty-first," said the blond. "Maybe we'll all see each other there."

Damon looked to his grandfather, who nodded while Harry and Ron both shrugged. Harry's relatives both hated magic and the boy had no idea how he'd go about getting his supplies. Ron's family on the other hand didn't have the spare cash to buy his things so he would get hand-me-downs for his first year.

Merrill snapped his fingers and the fire turned a bright green. Draco stepped into the flames and called out his destination, 'Malfoy Manor,' and vanished. Ron then took his turn and disappeared on his way to the burrow.

At last Merrill, Damon and Harry took their place in the hearth and as the old man pulled them close, Harry squinted his eyes shut, his face full of distaste while Damon's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Six Privet Drive!" said the old druid as the fire flared one last time around them and they vanished.

The next morning Damon and his grandfather were sitting at the table eating breakfast when they saw the Dursleys, along with one of the local children, They brought Harry as well, though it though they acted as if he were covered in something distasteful.

The young boy watched them pull out of drive and head off down the street but was distracted by a tapping at the window. Damon got up and let a large brown barn owl enter. He stayed at the window for a moment, hoping to get one last look at his brother as they turned the corner but couldn't see properly for the hedges. Returning to the table he freed the envelope from the owl's leg. "Here we go." he said to himself as he opened the letter.


	2. Diagon Alley

Disclaimer: The characters and settings relating to Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling. I own nothing.

This is the second book of the Druid's Apprentice series. If you haven't read book one, 'Druid's Apprentice, please do so now or you might be a bit lost.

Druid's Apprentice: The Philosopher's Stone.

Chapter 2

The weeks following the arrival of Damon's Hogwarts letter were the busiest he could remember. The young druid's training schedule was intensified so that it took up nearly every waking moment. It wasn't his druidical studies that consumed his time, he'd learned everything that could be taught and only time and experience would increase his power. His study of the ancient magic, physical combat and politics under Merrill's supervision that was pushing him to his limit.

A bright spot in the grueling schedule, however came from the antics next door as Vernon reacted to Harry's increasingly numerous school letters. By the end of the first week, however, Damon himself was beginning to wonder if the person or elf in charge of the notices wasn't a bit off their nut. The Dursley's front lawn was covered in owls and letters were flying into the house through every conceivable opening. It wasn't more than an hour or so after the latest batch of them had arrived that particular morning when the entire family, Harry included, packed themselves into the car with whatever they could carry, Harry carrying Dudley's things, and drove away as quickly as Vernon dared without drawing any more attention to their situation.

A bit concerned, the boy looked to his grandfather who shook his head. "The boy will be fine," said Merrill. "You'll see him when we go to Diagon Alley next week. Now lets go get started with today's lessons."

Finally July 31st arrived. Damon and his grandfather sat together on the train to muggle London, on their way to get his school supplies. He idly watched the countryside as it whipped past, while Merrill sat reading the morning paper. Arriving at the station, Damon stood up, making a show of using his cane for support. Part of the web of lies they'd surrounded him with was that Damon forester was lame from the same car crash that had killed his parents. To that end he now carried and used cane that secretly carried magic unheard of by most modern wizards.

They walked the streets of London, passing the fountain where he'd first met Draco. Seeing it reminded the raven-haired youth of their first meeting and he couldn't help but think of how much his friend had changed in only one year. The blond had already come so far from the spoiled brat they'd encountered that day. He was more sure of himself now and though he still believed that purebloods were better than muggles, Draco was willing to grudgingly admit that his father's views on them were a bit extreme. They continued on another block or two until they came to a shabby pub sitting on a corner by a record shop. A ratty old sign hung over the establishment proclaimed it the Leaky Cauldron.

Entering the establishment and realizing that they were a half-hour early for their meeting with Draco and his parents, they went to a boot to wait. Damon Loved the Cauldron. It was just so warm and cozy that he always felt at home whenever they came here. He'd just gotten a couple of butterbeers from Tom when the front door opened and a giant of a man entered, leading a small, messy haired boy who seemed incredibly shy. Harry and Hagrid had arrived.

Damon watched as the half-giant and his brother entered the inn and went up to the barkeep. The other patrons hand also noted Hagrid's entry with interest as he was well known here. Things had pretty much gone back to normal when Tom suddenly called out in a startled voice,

"Well bless my soul. It's Harry Potter."

This announcement caused the inn to go absolutely silent as everyone began realize what had been said. Moments later the room broke out in whispers and a flurry of people came over and reverently offered their hands to the young boy. Unexpectedly, Damon's forehead where his scar should have been began to prickle as if somebody were tracing it with a needle. Cursing himself for his own lack of observation, he scanned the crowd till he spotted a turbaned man sitting at the bar, Quirrell.

Watching the DADA instructor got up in turn to speak with his brother and Hagrid, Damon found it difficult not to get up and put himself between them. He was moments away from doing just that when, with another nod to the professor, Hagrid led Harry out the back door to Diagon Alley. Turning back to their table, he winced as he saw the serious expression on his grandfather's face.

"You realize, of course, that you'll have to be a bit less obvious about your concern for Harry when you get to Hogwarts. Hide your emotions or you'll give everything away."

"I know but . . . "

"But you worry about your brother," Merrill finished for him. "I do as well but you have to give him some credit as well. He's a smart lad and more than capable of taking care of himself."

Damon nodded, he knew that his grandfather was right. Not only was Harry already a capable wizard in his own right, but when he was sorted into Gryffindor he'd have Ron Weasley beside him.

It was another twenty minutes before Lucius, along with his wife and son arrived at the Cauldron. The elder Malfoy came in flanked by two other wizards discussing something going on at the Ministry of Magic. Draco and his mother came in after, the Lady Malfoy was regarding her husband with an absolutely predatory glare while Draco scanned the crowd eagerly with his eyes. Spotting Damon and his grandfather, he touched his mother's arm lightly and nodded in their direction, letting her know where he was going, then came bounding over to the booth.

After an excited greeting between the two boys, They and Merrill sat and talked of nothing in particular until the blond's parents were able to come over and join them.

"Well then," the old druid asked as they waited. "Anything new going on at home Draco?"

Shaking his head, the youngest Malfoy answered, "Not really. Well father is going on about how I should be keeping an eye out for Harry . . . er . . . Potter."

Grinning, Merrill replied, "I expected as much. He hasn't said anything that would make you think he knows about the other person of note attending school this year?"

To his credit, Draco flinched only a little at the implied mention of the dark lord. It didn't matter he was sitting across from the most powerful wizard to live in the last two thousand years, a lifetime living in fear of even the thought of Voldemort was hard to overcome. "Father hasn't said anything one way or another, " he replied. "But I wouldn't expect him to even if he did know something."

Draco's parents, finishing their conversation, came over and joined their son at Merrill's booth. "Good day Merrill," the elder Malfoy said in a silky voice. "I hope you're well. You remember my wife Narcissa, of course."

Lucius' wife, an incredibly beautiful but cold looking woman quirked an eyebrow at her husband's overly formal introduction. The two families had dined together not less than four times over the summer and attended countless parties. Introductions were no more necessary between them than they would be between her and Draco.

Merrill, ever the suave devil, rose and took Narcissa's hand in his and purred, "My lady, always a pleasure."

Damon rolled his eyes at Draco as they watched his grandfather working the purebloods. One of the first things that the old druid had taught him was that even before magic there was power to be had through persuasion.

From the age of five, Damon had been trained by his grandfather and several nefarious individuals of the old man's acquaintance. He had learned from con men, politicians, and even muggle stage magicians the techniques that would allow him to manipulate and influence people. He'd become proficient, even inspired in his mind games. Just now he was playing at being an eleven-year-old boy who was anxious to go on an adventure with his best friend.

"Grandfather," the boy moaned as he hopped from one foot to the other in feigned impatience. "You said we would be going to Diagon Alley now!"

Grinning at his grandson's masterful act, Merrill turned to Lucius with amusement in his eyes. "Perhaps the boys should go ahead and explore while we adults talk."

The elder Malfoy's brows knit slightly with concern. He remembered all too well the first time Damon and Draco had gone alone into Diagon Alley and cringed at the thought of what trouble they might get into if given the chance. Still, he needed more time with the Forester Patriarch to feel him out and the Leaky Cauldron was as good a place as any.

"Fine then," said Lucius. "But we expect you both to be on your best behavior and meet us at Flourish & Blotts in an hour."

Lucius found himself suddenly talking to thin air as the two boys, having received their permission, darted off toward the back door as they yelled out simultaneous thank-you's. Closing the door connecting the small courtyard to the pub, Damon stepped up to the wall and with a few deft taps on the stones with his fingers, the wall rearranged itself into an archway leading into Diagon Alley.

Damon grinned to himself as he watched the crowds doing their shopping. He loved this place. It wasn't so wild as the Bazar at Baghdad or large as the wizard's mall at Salem but this was home.

The two boys went directly to Quality Quidditch supplies, where they spent half an hour ogling the new brooms. While their boards were faster and more responsive than the racing brooms, you couldn't use them to play Quidditch. Reluctantly leaving the shop behind, they wandered over to Eyelop's Owl Emporium.

Draco's father was allowing him a new pet as they would need a courier for letters and packages from home when he got to Hogwarts. The blond had already settled on a majestic black eagle owl who, according to the proprietor had a habit of nipping the fingers of people it didn't like, which appeared to be everyone except Draco and Damon. The bird had even bowed his regal head after Damon had quietly introduced them and allowed his new master to scratch the feathers atop his head.

Damon only smiled as Draco was showing off his new pet whom he'd already named Caesar. The young druid wasn't interested in an owl of his own. He and his grandfather had several more direct ways of communicating that made an owl seem pointless. They were just getting ready to leave when Damon spotted an old miniature barn owl sitting on a ratty old post in the corner.

It was obvious that the bird had seen better days. There were some bare patches here and there where its feathers had fallen out and the animal seemed severely underfed. Scandalized to see an owl so mistreated in the shop, Damon turned angrily to the proprietor demanding to know how the animal had come to such a state. As it turned out, the owl had been abandoned just the day before on the doorstep.

Pity combined with an instinctive need to help the unfortunate owl overwhelmed Damon and before he knew it the bird was riding unsteadily on his shoulder as they left the shop. Draco, unable to help himself, teased the young druid unmercifully about his new pet, wondering aloud if the thing were truly alive or simply stuffed and mounted. Unseen by the two boys as they went about their business, the old owl's eyes flashed blue and its beak stretched impossibly into a mischievous toothy grin.

Damon and Draco met up with their guardians shortly after at the bookshop as planned. Narcissa had gone off to look at wands and Lucius ordered Draco to run to Madam Malkin's to be fitted for his robes while he procured the boy's books.

"But father," the boy whined. "I'm supposed to pick my wand, it won't work properly if she gets the wrong one."

"Your mother is only picking the most likely wands for you," his father assured him. "You will have the final choice when you get to the shop a bit later. Now off to madam Malkin's."

As Lucius was going about reassuring his son, Merrill took Damon by the unoccupied shoulder and led him from the shop.

"Where are we going?" the boy asked.

"To Ollivander's of course," replied Merrill as he studied Damon's new owl curiously. "You'll have everything else already. Interesting choice of pets, have you named him yet?"

Attempting to wrestle the bird do a more comfortable spot, Damon answered, "I didn't have to. I found this tag around his leg." Holding it so Merrill could read, he said aloud, "Niffar. Odd name don't you think? Arabic maybe? Anyway why go to all the trouble of getting a wand? I don't need it to cast spells. None of us do."

"I realize that my boy," murmured Merrill quietly. "But I don't want anybody that checks such things wondering why you've been casting spells with a stick." Blushing, Damon acknowledged his grandfather's wisdom and followed him to a dusty old shop nearby. "Besides," said the old man as he put his hand on the door. "Narcissa has been in there for quite some time, I think we should be going about rescuing Ollivander."

Stepping into the dimly lit small shop, they found the Lady Malfoy wrapping up her business with the proprietor. A gaunt old man with a fringe of sparse white hair about his head and eyes black as pitch. Damon was idly looking about the shop, waiting their turn when a clatter at the counter drew his attention back in that direction.

The proprietor, Mr. Ollivander he guessed, had more than just taken notice of his new customers. He was in fact standing slack-jawed in amazement with several wands half out of their boxes strewn at his feet.

There was a barely perceptible nod in Narcissa's direction from Merrill, Damon only barely noticed it but it brought Ollivander around and the wandmaker came back to himself as he turned and began to beg forgiveness of the blond woman.

"Oh my," said the shopkeeper as he scrambled to pick up the wands. "My apologies' Lady Malfoy. I'll have all of these wands ready for master draco to try when he arrives."

"Yes," she replied airily. "The wand he picks had best not been damaged by your clumsiness." Without another word, Narcissa swept out of the shop, leaving Merrill and Damon alone with the wand maker.

Ollivander, after casting impervius and Silencing spells on the door, turned and knelt on one knee before the ancient druid. "My lord Merlin," he half croaked with strangled emotion. "It's been so long."

"Rise Sir Kay," replied Merrill as he helped the old man to his feet. "We're both far too old to be bound by such formality." Turning the other man so that he could see Damon clearly, he continued, "I would like you to meet my grandson."

Suddenly feeling unaccountably self conscious, Damon squirmed as the shopkeeper spent several moments staring at him. He found himself gob-smacked when Ollivander/Kay finally spoke.

"Good day Mr. Potter," he said.

"How did you? ...."

"I know the old magic too, my boy. It is a useful tool for a wandmaker to be able to know as much as he can about the wizard that comes looking. In truth I'd been expecting you about now but I thought you'd look more like your parents."

"We've changed his appearance and he's going by the name Damon Forester for now," explained Merrill. "Later on you'll meed another boy who bears the guise of Harry Potter, I would ask you to treat him as if he was."

Nodding in assent, Ollivander murmured, "Of course Lord Merlin, whatever you ask."

Smiling fondly at the old man, Merrill pulled out a short list of names. "These boys, along with Damon, will need nonfunctional copies made of their wands ready before school starts. Ron Weasley may be a bit of a difficulty as he will likely be using one of his family's wands when he goes."

"Not to worry," assured Ollivander. "I will floo his mother tomorrow and have her bring the boy and his wand around to make sure it will work for him. I'll copy it then."

Rather than picking a wand for Damon, Ollivander had the boy walk among the shelves looking for a wand that resonated along with his magic. In a back corner he came across two wands that sent tingles up his arms as he held them. One was Holly with a phoenix feather core, it was close and he knew he could use it with no problem but it wasn't a perfect match. The other was ash with a unicorn hair core. Instinctively Damon picked the second wand, somehow he knew that the first was meant for his twin.

Taking his new wand back to the front of the shop, Damon found the two old men chatting amiably. While fascinated by the memories of Camelot that the two were sharing, he was eager to get back to Draco and see how his shopping went. They paid Ollivander and with a final farewell left the shop only moments before Harry, sent ahead by an excited Hagrid, entered the shop alone.

Their last stop was Tolliver's Trunks. A seedy little shop just inside knockturn Alley. Stepping inside, Damon called out a careless greeting to Thad Upshike, Tolliver's apprentice. Damon was quite familiar with Tolliver's, he'd spent quite a bit of time here learning the art of lock picking, both muggle and magical. Mr. Tolliver was a bit of a curmudgeon, but Thad . . . he was every bit as mischievous as Damon.

"G'day Damon, Mr. Forester," the young man said as he came out of the back. "You've come for the young master's trunk then?"

At Merrill's nod, Thad led them back into the workshop and to a trunk easily larger than a wardrobe.

"You've got to be kidding," sputtered Damon as he circled the massive container. "This thing is huge. I'll be laughed out of the school."

With a smug grin, Thad touched a small metal inlay styled like a serpent. The trunk shrank first to the size of an average steamer trunk and then with another touch became the size of a pack of playing cards. Picking up the miniaturized trunk up, Thad tapped it with his wand and handed it to Damon. The boy gasped and nearly dropped the item when he felt an electric tingle run up his arm.

"Don't worry about it," Explained Tolliver's apprentice. "The trunk was just keying itself to you. Now you'll be the only one who can set the passwords for sizing and opening it."

Paying for the trunk, Merrill and his grandson left Knockturn Alley and headed back towards the Leaky Cauldron in search of Draco and his family.

"Well," said Merrill as they strolled along, "Just another month and you'll be off to Hogwarts."

Caught up in his own thoughts about that very subject, Damon barely nodded. The old druid led his grandson into Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour, and to a booth in the back.

"You know your birthday is supposed to be tomorrow," Merrill began after the waitress had left them with two huge sundaes'. "Of course we know better." The old druid pulled a cloth-wrapped bundle from inside his cloak and slid it across the table to his grandson.

"Happy Birthday my boy."

Grinning happily, Damon picked up the package and hefted it experimentally. He cast a suspicious glance at his grandfather and asked, "It's not socks again, is it?"

Merrill barked out a short laugh and shook his head with amusement. "No lad, this is something I've had since I was your age and it's served me well. Now I am giving it to you."

Curiosity finally overwhelming him, Damon opened the bundle to find a plainly ornamented dagger. From the size of its sheath, the blade could barely be as long as the hilt.

"Er . . . grandfather . . . it's-"

"Take it out," said the old druid with a smile.

Taking the handle in his grasp, Damon pulled it out and out until the entire blade was exposed. From a five-inch sheath had come a thin, delicate blade nearly eighteen inches in length.

"It's brilliant!"said the boy in an excited whisper.

"You boys will be on your own when you get to Hogwarts" said Merrill a bit more seriously. " I want you to have whatever it takes to remain safe while you're there."

Strapping the Dagger onto his forearm where it immediately vanished, Damon grinned as he leaned back into his chair and answered. "Really grandfather, Two of the most insane and power-hungry wizards alive together in the same school, surrounded by hundreds of innocent students that either would manipulate or sacrifice for their own ends . . . " Looking up at his grandfather with a grim smile he continued, "How could there possibly be any trouble?"

ok guys, here's chapter 2, more to come as I already have part of chapter three written as well but I'm hoping to finish Blind faith before putting out another chapter.

Japanese-jew, you've noticed I didn't give up on Blind Faith, I just got a wild hair to write on this fic, it helps when I get a bit of writers block.

Asphodel Alghieri (whew!!! where do you guys come up with these names?) Here is chapter 2 . Sorting should be ch3.. Or 4 depending how long the train ride is. (Hint: ch3 title may be Damon smells a rat.)

Treck I cant help it, I shake Christmas presents under the tree as well.

Dimensional Analysis thanks


	3. The Hogwarts Express

Disclaimer: The characters and settings relating to Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling. I own nothing.

This is the second book of the Druid's Apprentice series. If you haven't read book one, 'Druid's Apprentice, please do so now or you might be a bit lost.

Druid's Apprentice: The Philosopher's Stone.

Chapter 3

At last Sept. 1st came around and Damon, his trunk tucked into his back pocket, stood with his grandfather on Platform 9 3/4. He was already dressed for school though in fashion that would be archaic and laughable on most people, but on him it looked right.

He wore a white tunic with slightly flaring sleeves and a Hogwarts crest on the left breast. Instead of the uniform slacks, he wore black breeches and mid-calf leather boots. Over it all was a very differently cut wizards robe. It was sleeveless and open down each side, a single silver chain around the waist held it in place.

While they waited, Merrill was busy brushing stray feathers from his grandson's robes. It seemed that Niffar was constantly molting. Hearing a commotion and much laughter coming from the barrier, they watched a pair of identical redheads, Fred and George Weasley, followed by Percy, Harry, Ron. They were followed closely by the Weasley Matriarch, Molly and their youngest child, Ginny.

Damon was a little curious how Harry could have hooked up so quickly with Ron, but as it was nearly eleven he would have to board the train soon. Turning he said his final goodbyes to his grandfather. The old druid looked the boy over with pride and with slightly misty eyes he addressed his grandson.

"I'll be seeing you for Christmas holidays. Gods know that for an old man, four months shouldn't seem so long. I guess I've gotten used to having you around."

Feeling a catch in his throat, Damon whispered, "I'll miss you too." He lurched into a tight hug with his grandfather until a shrill whistle from the Hogwarts Express snapped them out of it. Mustering a shaky laugh, Merrill held the boy at arms length and made him promise to keep in touch then sent him off to find a seat on the train.

Minutes later the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station to begin its journey to the moors of Scotland. Damon worked his way between the cars looking for a familiar face. Eventually he found Draco along with two brutal looking boys that the young druid had run across a few times before at parties thrown by Draco's parents.

The blond reintroduced the two as Crabbe and Goyle. They had apparently elected themselves as Draco's bodyguards, though he suspected that they were also spying on the blond for their fathers. When they were introduced, Goyle squeezed Damon's hand tightly in an attempt set up the pecking order in the group with the young druid at the bottom. Damon, however had spent the last several years fighting for his life in Avalon and he was more than able to squeeze back just as tightly without even batting an eyebrow.

"Nice grip," he said breezily while Goyle grunted with effort as he tried to squeeze even harder. Damon quickly grew bored of the whole affair and was trying to figure how to end it without embarrassing the other boy and causing problems when Draco came to his rescue.

"Knock it off Goyle," the blond said lazily from his seat. "Damon is alright, you don't have to play this game." Relieved to have an excuse to stop, the thuggish boy released Damon's hand and silently went over to sit by Crabbe. Nodding his thanks to the blond, the young druid went over and joined him.

Settling on one of the seats, Damon spent a good hour talking with Draco and trying to draw the other two boys into the conversation. He was quickly coming to suspect, however, that he would have better luck getting an intelligent response from his decrepit pet owl than these oafs. They were saved from dying of boredom a short time later when two more friends of draco joined them in the compartment.

One was a blond girl who seemed to attach herself physically to Draco like some eleven-year-old leach. Damon recognized her again from several of the parties thrown by the Malfoy's as Pansy Parkinson. The girl had firmly decided that she would become the next Lady Malfoy and was unknowingly giving the young druid loads of ammunition for when he wanted to taunt his friend.

The other was a brown haired boy named Blaise. Damon also knew him from a few of the parties, but unlike Pansy and Draco, his family was not considered 'pure'. It seemed that several generations back his great-great grandfather had married a muggle. Regardless that they had only married with other purebloods since, the taint was still marked on the family bloodline and they would never have a full voice among their peers.

Blaise shared a smile with Damon at Draco's situation while the blond glared daggers them both. Unable to help himself, the young druid poured more fuel on the girl's fire. "Why Draco," he said. "I had no idea you have a girlfriend."

Squealing with delight, Pansy pulled herself even tighter against the blond's arm. Malfoy on the other hand was silently promising terrible retribution on Damon with his eyes. Satisfied that his friend wouldn't be lacking for attention, he turned his attention again to Blaise.

There was a bookish air about the boy. You could see the intelligence in his hazel eyes, though they revealed little about his thoughts. Damon could tell, however that the boy was missing nothing of what was going on around him and was filing it away somewhere in that head for future use. Blaise was funny and clever, the young druid instinctively liked him and considered him as a prospect to join the order. They were going on about nothing in particular when draco suddenly let out an exasperated snort and rose to his feet.

"Excuse me Pansy," said the blond with false civility. "I have to go check on something. Damon," he said to his friend through gritted teeth. "Come with me please."

Standing up, Damon took his time, checking on his owl, who'd fallen asleep surrounded by a nest of its own feathers as they continued to fall out. It was odd, there were so many of them out now that the bird should by all rights be bald but its feathers didn't seem any more sparse than when he'd first bought it.

The two boys escaped the compartment followed by the sounds of Pansy's inane chatter as she talked about her boyfriend. The young druid collapsed against the wall laughing as Draco punched his shoulder several times.

"It's not funny!" The blond huffed after he'd composed himself and they were making their way down the train. "The girl's a bloody nightmare, did you know she's already planning a wedding?" Damon, for his part, remained silent, not trusting himself to keep from angering his friend further.

While they stood there, the Weasley twins came into the car. The redheads gave each other an odd look and then greeted both boys as long lost friends, "Damon, and Draco Malfoy I'd guess," said Fred. "Hope you're enjoying your trip," continued George.

"Er . . . right." Answered Damon intelligently.

"Anyway, perhaps we can get a game of," put in Fred "football. I hear you're both really good." Finished George as they left the compartment.

The two boys looked at each other with worried expressions. "They remember," gasped Draco.

"We'll figure it out after the sorting," the young druid replied. "Lets get moving."

They passed several other students before bumping into a bushy haired girl with large front teeth and a podgy, rather shy looking dark-haired boy following behind.

"Have you seen a toad?" asked the girl. "Neville's lost his and we're looking . . . "

"Piss off." Interrupted Draco as he pushed past.

"Sorry," said Damon with an apologetic smile as he followed his friend. "Bad day, trouble with the misses."

Leaving the scandalized girl behind, he quickly caught up with draco and they found Harry and Ron's compartment. Playing the parts as they'd rehearsed it, Draco entered and said loudly, "they say that Harry Potter is on the train, is it you then?"

From that point the Malfoy/Weasley insult marathon fired back up as if it had never been interrupted. It was a bit more vicious than usual though, to maintain the illusion that they were enemies but their relaxed posture made it clear to the young druid that they weren't taking it seriously. It was as he was idly listening to them go at it that he noticed the rat.

The poor thing was pitiful to look at. It was all gray and scrawny, with patches of fur missing from several areas on its body. To be honest it reminded him of Niffar. He remembered Ron talking about his pet once, it had been Percy's originally, then handed down to Fred and George and then Ron. Doing the numbers in his head, the young druid realized that no normal rat could have possibly lived that long.

Casually Damon closed the compartment door and with a whisper, cast both silencing and impervious spells on the door and room. Finally, casting a quick detection spell at the animal, he nodded to himself at the expected result; Scabbers was an animagus. Moving with the speed of a striking snake, Damon snatched the rat from Ron's lap and held it in a tight grip.

The redhead, concerned for his pet and angered at its apparent mistreatment, jumped to his feet. "What are you doing to Scabbers?" he asked with his fists clenched.

"Scabbers isn't a rat, Ron," answered the young druid.

"What? Of course he's a rat he's been in the family for . . . "

"For almost ten years?" asked Damon. "I'm sorry but rats don't live that long, even in the wizarding world."

The whole time that the two boys had been talking, Scabbers was squirming in an attempt to free itself. In desperation the rat was able to turn and sink its teeth into Damon's hand. Rather than let go, however, the boy redoubled his grip, causing the rat to squeal even louder in pain.

"Here's what's gong to happen," said the young druid to Scabbers. "We both know you're an animagus and that you've been hiding and spying on Ron's family for something like ten years. Because I think you're up to no good, I'm going to start squeezing. If you are honestly a rat then you have my apologies and we'll give you a decent burial when we get to Hogwarts. If you're a man you'd best change soon before things inside you start to break."

Good to his word, Damon began to squeeze the rat ever harder, eliciting more desperate noises from the little rodent. The young druid was starting to feel badly and was thinking about releasing it when Scabbers suddenly began to writhe and grow in his hand.

Within moments the rat had vanished to be replaced by a short podgy man with sparse wispy blond hair and dressed in clothes ten years out of date. The man that had been Scabbers grabbed Damon's hand where it was still holding ineffectually to the front of his shirt.

Though he'd been half expecting the transformation, Damon was still caught off guard as the man grabbed and spun him about, hooking an arm around the boy's throat to use as a shield.

"Alright children, no sudden moves." Said Scabbers breathlessly as Harry, Ron and Draco all stood facing him. "Just hand over your wands, I'll cast a simple spell and you'll never even remember I was here."

The boys glanced at Damon who nodded imperceptibly as they slowly pulled out their wands and tossed them across the compartment while unseen by Scabbers, Damon' eyes had changed to a brilliant emerald green.

He started to push the boy over to collect the wands but found that he was having difficulty doing so. Damon's neck had become unaccountably thick and quite hairy. Glancing over at the boy he reeled back in horror as he realized he was holding onto the neck of a brown bear. The beast turned around and placed its paws on his shoulders and pushed him back into the wall, letting out a deafening roar directly in his face. Squeaking more pitifully than he had when he'd been a rat, sagged against the wall and passed out.

The bear sniffed at Scabbers a bit then returned to his human form. Damon cast a quick spell over the prone man leaving him glowing a faint purple color as the boy then pulled out and enlarged his trunk to full size. "Help me you lot, we don't have much time before we get to Hogwarts."

Together they levered the now rigid but sleeping man into the trunk and shrank it back to pocket size. "We'll meet at the place grandfather told us about after everyone else is asleep." Releasing the spells on the compartment, Damon and Draco said goodbye to their friends and went back to where Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle were waiting for them. When they arrived, they found Pansy and Blaise huddled together and staring uneasily at the two goons who were being anything but menacing at the moment.

In truth, Draco's bodyguard looked at that moment like they'd snuck into their grandmother's cooking sherry and drank the entire bottle. "What happened?" asked Damon with a wary expression. Something else wasn't right but he couldn't put his finger on it. Then he spotted a pile of feathers but no owl. "Where's Niffar?" Damon turned back to the others looking for an explanation which didn't come until Blaise screwed up the courage and answered.

"It was Crabbe and Goyle," he said. "After you left, they got bored and decided to play with your owl. I think Greg was a bit miffed about you and the whole handshake thing because he started pulling on its feathers . . . the bird squawked a few times and then there was a puff of pink smoke and those two started acting like they are now. When the smoke cleared Niffar was just . . . gone." A thorough search of the compartment and the entire car showed no trace of the errant bird and Damon was about to turn his anger on the two stuporous boys when the whistle blew announcing that they were entering Hogsmeade.

Damon desperately wanted to question Crabbe and Goyle but he knew that now he would have to save it for later. They exited the train and milled about on the platform until Hagrid stepped out near one end calling for all the first years. Damon wandered further away from his friends and mingled with the other new students as they walked along the path to the boats. He got into an enjoyable conversation with a boy and girl who would likely end up in Ravenclaw, if he were to make a guess, so he spent a little time getting to know them.

The boy was Terry boot, a dark-skinned boy with a love of Quidditch to match Ron's own. The other was Mandy Brockhurst, a plump but serious witch who seemed to take everything just a bit too seriously. When they arrived on at the boats he, Terry, Mandy and a boy named Justin were together in one while he noticed that Draco had grouped with his Slytherin cronies. Ron and Harry had found themselves with the podgy boy and bushy haired girl from the train.

Half way out onto the lake a giant tentacle slid up out of the lake and tapped Damon on the shoulder. Turning, he stared in amusement as one of several appendages belonging to the giant squid performed as if it were a creature unto itself and bowed to him. Rubbing the rubbery arm he sent out a silent call, promising to visit the beast in a few days after he'd settled in.

They rounded a bend and Hogwarts came into full view. Shining like a beacon in the darkness, the structure exuded a presence that was second only to Camelot in its majesty. As they got closer, the boats steered themselves toward a cave that sat at the waterline below the castle. Damon couldn't help but notice how the wards about the school seemed to resonate with the presence of him and his friends. His fears were realized when the last of the four, Harry, stepped off of his boat and the sound of bells ringing shook the castle.

Startled at the sudden noise, Hagrid called all the children together, suspecting some attack. Cursing his luck, Damon placed his right hand on the nearest face of exposed rock and projected the danger involved in his friends being exposed so soon. The castle must have understood as the bells quieted as Hagrid relaxed and lowered his umbrella.

"Right then," the half-giant said as he walked to a large door set in the wall, "Everyone together now." With that he raised his massive hand and knocked on the door loudly three times.

* * *

Thanks for the reviews, yes I said that the next chapters wouldn't come out till after Blind Faith was finished but again I couldn't help myself.

Shadowblade613 thanks and the owl very interesting. As to the blade, I think it would be much safer for you if you just asked him nicely for it.

Asphodel Alghieri:... have you been reading my plot notes? Seriously you'll find out about the sorting next chapter and as you can see, Peter's been captured but not identified yet. Ooh next chapter is going to be a bear. (Pun)

Many thanks as well to Shazia)Riavera, Dimensional Analysis and EAV

keep up with the reviews.


	4. Sorting things out

Druid's Apprentice: The Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 4

BTW: I drew a new picture of Damon in his first year and posted it on my bio page. Take a look, see what you think. (no snickering at my crappy art skills)

The door remained closed for several moments until a tall, black haired witch in emerald-green robes swung them open. She had a stern face that reminded him of Merrill's when the old Druid was in one of his moods.

"The first years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you," she responded. "I'll take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was huge, larger in fact, than the entrance hall at the manor. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches and the ceiling was so high that Damon couldn't make it out.

They followed McGonagall to a smaller room off the main hall. They could hear hundreds of voices from a nearby doorway, the rest of the school must already be here. She had them all gather close together while she gave her customary speech.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, the start of term banquet will begin shortly. Before you take you seats in the great hall, however, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within the school. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most pints will be awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much s you can while you are waiting."

Damon had to fight to keep from grimacing as the witch had explained about the houses. Not only was the practice outdated, it built walls between students that he and his friends have to tear down over time. With a surreptitious glance at his friends to make sure they were alright, (Ron and Draco were at it again) Harry turned back to Mandy and tried to draw her out.

"So which house do you think you'll be sorted into?" he asked the mousy-haired girl.

Balking at Damon's question, Mandy seemed to shrink into herself. Something about dealing with other people seemed to make her close up. Terry, on the other hand, had no problems like that at all.

"We're going into Ravenclaw," said the boy enthusiastically. "Mandy has been doing independent study with her parents since she was eight and I'm just the same. I've read every book in the family library twice. I can't wait to see what books they have here. How do you think they'll be sorting us? I asked my dad, but he said that it's kind of a secret. Ron Weasley over there, his brothers told him we have to wrestle a troll. I don't think its anything like that… maybe a riddle. I like riddles"

Though quickly coming to regret his question, Damon couldn't help be amused by the effervescent boy. Where Mandy was quiet and unassuming, Terry seemed to bubble with enthusiasm. The young druid opened his mouth several times, looking for the proper opening to give his opinion on the sorting when a girlish scream nearby had him spinning about with his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger.

Damon relaxed immediately when he saw the cause of the commotion. Twenty ghosts, their forms white and semi-transparent, came through the far wall. Several, a rotund monk and a frilled dandy among them, were going on about someone named Peeves. Finally taking notice of the first years, the dandy demanded, "I say, what are all you doing here?"

"We're waiting to be sorted sir," answered Damon.

When no one else spoke, the ghost turned to face the young druid. After a moment's examination, the apparition's eyes seemed to widen a bit. "What is your name, boy?" asked the dandy in a hushed tone.

Feeling a bit uncomfortable, Damon opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Professor McGonagall's sharp voice.

"Move along now," she said. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start."

With the witch's return, the ghosts moved as a group and disappeared through the far wall. The dandy gave a last fleeting look at Damon, who put a finger to his lips, requesting the ghost's silence. With a nod, the dandy disappeared after his fellows. Damon and the other first-years let themselves be led out of the small room and into the Great Hall.

The room was much different that Damon remembered it when he and his grandfather had been here earlier in the summer. Thousands of candles were floating in midair above the four house tables. Each table was laid with glittering golden plates and goblets where the students were sitting. At the far end of the hall sat the staff table, just as the young Druid remembered.

Professor McGonagall led the first years to the front and lined them up facing the student body with the professors at their backs. The hundreds of faces staring up at them looked like lanterns in the pale candlelight. Damon spent several moments scanning them with his eyes, wondering how many would fight for Dumbledore, Voldemort, or for the order. His musings were cut short when he heard Hermione Granger whispering to a couple of the other students.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read it in _Hogwarts, a History_."

Damon turned and followed the girl's gaze upward. He saw a velvety black ceiling covered in stars. So complete was the illusion, that it was hard to believe the Great Hall wasn't simply open to the heavens.

Playing the part of a curious eleven year old, Damon glanced around at the professors arrayed behind them. They all looked more than a little frazzled, likely caused by the unexplained ringing of bells earlier. Dumbledore, the consummate actor, seemed relaxed and amused by the evenings events, but his eyes were in constant motion, checking all the doors and windows. Damon had reasons to feel good and bad about this. First, it meant the headmaster wasn't as all-knowing about what happened in his school as they'd feared. In addition, it meant that the school hadn't alerted Professor Dumbledore the moment the bells rung. The school itself didn't seem to trust him completely.

The other professors also looked a bit out of sorts, though Professor Snape seemed to hide it best. The potions-master caught Damon's eye as the boy was looking about and nodded slightly in recognition. He then motioned for the boy to turn back about and face the crowd.

Looking back down, the young Druid watched as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On it she placed a pointed wizards hat. It was patched, stained and extremely dirty but still exuded great power. For a moment, there was silence; then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and then the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

In times long past the founders sought,

By creating a useful tool,

To sort the kinds of children that

Would seek knowledge from the school.

Though he who taught them forsaw the day,

When all must fight as one,

You'll put me on and learn the skills

That'll bring balance when you're done.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart.

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil.

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning

Will always find their kind.

Or perhaps you'll be in Slytherin,

With friends of cunning mind,

Using any means to achieve their ends

Better allies you cannot find.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a thinking cap!

The whole hall burst into applause and Damon caught Ron whispering something to Harry out the corner of his eye. The redhead seemed to be caught between relief and anger as he glared at the Gryffindor table. Following his friends gaze, Damon spotted Fred and George snickering to each other in some shared joke. Remembering what Terry had said earlier, he smiled himself - a troll… really. Damon blinked in surprise when he realized that riding on Georges shoulder, was Niffar. The old bird was barely hanging on and had a pile of feathers around his claws, but he was alright.

Professor McGonagall stepped back in front of them holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbot, Hannah!"

Damon paid careful attention as each student was called to try on the hat. Every one of them was a potential member of the order. Mandy Brockhurst and Terry boot both ended up in Ravenclaw as expected. There were so many students, he knew, that picking the few that they would induct that year into the order would be difficult. Still, the young druid had a plan that would allow them to get to know the members of at least three houses first hand.

"Forester, Damon!"

Putting on a show of seeming less confident, Damon climbed up on the stool and placed the Sorting Hat on his head.

"Hello," Damon thought to the hat as he felt a tickling in his mind.

"Well, well," replied the hat. "Mr. Potter. I didn't expect you this early in the sorting."

"Don't call me that," warned the young druid. "You know what name I'm going by here. By the way, Grandfather sends his respects."

"How is the old liar?" asked the hat with apparent amusement. "Just being his grandson means I should by all rights put you in Slytherin."

With a mental shake of his head, the young druid answered, "Draco will be going into Slytherin. I also want you putting my twin into Gryffindor with Ron Weasley. You'll be putting me into Ravenclaw."

"What about Hufflepuff?" asked the hat. "Shouldn't one of your little order be in each house?"

"Things will be happening this year that will probably have Harry in more than normal danger. I want somebody with him in case." Damon paused for a second in thought, then asked, "Would you take a good look at all the Hufflepuffs for me? I need to find two that would be likely candidates for the order."

"Fine… like I had nothing else to do with the rest of my year than be your recruiter," the hat grumbled. Well, I guess there's nothing for it except to say… Better be…RAVENCLAW!"

Damon jumped off the stool to the applause from his new house. Joining Mandy and Terry, he watched as the rest of his friends were sorted just as he asked. The Sorting Hat had barely touched Draco's head when it declared him "SLYTHERIN!" When Harry was called, the hall filled with whispered comments from all directions about the boy-who-lived. The hat spent quite a bit of time conversing with Harry, until finally it roared, "GRYFFINDOR!" Ron, his house a given, soon joined Harry and his brothers at their table and waited for the sorting to finish. When the last child, Blaise Zabini had been sorted into Slytherin, Professor McGonagall rolled up her parchment and took the hat away.

Professor Dumbledore, who'd been beaming like a child at Christmas ever since Harry had been sorted, rose to his feet and said, "Welcome! Welcome to Hogwarts, before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. They are, Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you."

As the headmaster sat down, Damon shook his head in wonder at the old man's games. These little displays made everyone think that Professor Dumbledore was a bit cracked. This made him seem less dangerous and more loveable in most people's eyes. The young druid's attention turned from the headmaster to his stomach as the table before him filled with food. Setting his plans aside, Damon tucked in and enjoyed the feast.

As they ate, the first years began introducing themselves to each other. Damon had already met Terry and Mandy. Across from him sat another dark-haired boy with his nose buried in a book. When Damon tried to introduce himself, the boy gave him a disdainful glance and went back to his book, pointedly ignoring everyone around him.

"Don't mind Michael," said a blond boy beside him. "He's always had a stick up his arse. I'm Kevin Entwhistle by the way. You're Forester, right?" Grinning, Damon took the Kevin's hand and nodded.

"Call me Damon. Do you play Quidditch?"

"No, but my favorite team is the Kestrels. You know they invented the Hawkshead attacking formation?"

"I've heard that," Damon replied. "But I like the Tornados. The way their roster is shaping up, I can see them leading the league in the next couple years."

"You like the Tutshill Tornados?" asked a black haired second year. "I've loved them since I was six! Call me Cho."

And so, the introductions went on through the meal. Damon learned the names of the other Ravenclaws in his year. There was Morag McDugal, a pale redheaded girl with a thick Irish brogue. Padma Patil was one of a pair of twins that had been sorted that night. Her sister, Parvati, had ended up in Gryffindor. Lisa Turpin was a bubbly girl of short stature that seemed have boundless energy. The last of them was a portly boy with serious eyes named Kevin Goldstein.

They were nearly finished with their meal when Damon felt a prickling on his forehead where the curse-scar should have rested. Glancing over at the Gryffindor table, he could see his brother rubbing his own scar with a pained look on his face. The scar was reacting to Voldemort's proximity; the fallen wizard must be aware of Harry and was probably quite angry. Trying to be casual about it, Damon looked up to the head table and watched as Snape talked to Quirrell. The DADA professor was facing away from Harry, so Voldemort, hidden beneath that ridiculous turban, was facing the boy directly. What was more, Snape was sending evil looks in Harry's direction that Damon would have to investigate. It was bad enough that Dumbledore and Voldemort were after Harry, now it looked like the potions-master had an axe to grind as well.

The headmaster, choosing that moment to stand and address the school, stopped whatever Voldemort was doing. The prickling passed and Damon listened disinterestedly as Dumbledore gave the school announcements. One thing did catch the young druid's interest, though. The professor warned them all to stay away from the third floor corridor on the right hand side. Though he'd told them of the grave consequences of going there, Dumbledore's warning sounded more of an invitation to curious students with a thirst for adventure.

During the singing of the school song, (a bizarre ditty that everyone was encouraged to sing with his or her own tune) Niffar flew unsteadily over and perched himself drunkenly on Damon's shoulder. The old bird immediately began molting feathers all over the young druid's robes as it tucked its head under a wing and went to sleep. With a shrug and a smile to his housemates, Damon stood and followed the prefects as they led everyone to the Ravenclaw tower.

Once inside, the first years were so tired by the days events that they went straight to their dormitories. There was very little banter between the exhausted boys as they got ready for bed. Damon, not tired in the least, listened quietly from under his covers until he was sure everyone else was asleep.

Getting out of bed, Damon quietly slipped into jeans and a t-shirt. Taking one last look to be sure everyone was asleep, the young druid padded down to the common room. Making his way to a large, hanging tapestry by the fireplace, Damon pulled one edge aside and faced the bare-stone wall behind it. Taking his grandfather's words on faith, the boy placed his right palm against the wall and waited as his oath-scar began to glow. Silently the stones began to arrange themselves until a doorway formed, leading into darkness. With a last glance over his shoulder, Damon passed through the portal; the tapestry swung back into place, leaving the darkened common room empty again.

Stepping through the doorway, Damon found himself immediately in another common room. It was just a cozy as the one in Ravenclaw, but instead of the eagle motif, everything was marked with the silver image of a dragon. Being the first to arrive, the young druid pulled out his trunk and enlarged it. When he opened it, he found the rat-man still unconscious in his bindings. Unceremoniously, Damon pulled the bedraggled man from the trunk and dragged him to the centre of the room. He'd just resized his trunk and put it in his back pocket when his friends began to arrive through the same door he'd entered.

First came Harry and Ron. Both boys looked a bit nervous, being in a new place but brightened when they saw Damon. Coming over by the fireplace, they both gave the prone man a pointedly hostile look before finding seats for themselves.

Last to arrive was Draco. Unlike the other boys, who'd come in wearing their dressing gowns, with hair rumpled by laying in bed, the blond Slytherin was dressed neatly with his hair gelled back like always.

"Off to a party after this, are you Malfoy?" asked Ron with a grin.

"Weasel, please," they boy responded idly. "Some of us must have a sense of decorum." Edging around their prisoner, as if it was something that would foul his clothes, Draco eased himself down on the couch by his friends and looked up expectantly at Damon.

"Everyone settled in alright?" the young druid asked with out preamble.

He was rewarded with nods from Ron and Harry, but Draco looked a little peeved and grumbled, "I thought you were supposed to be sorted into Slytherin with me."

Grinning at the other boy's mock anger, Damon responded, "Grandfather wants us spread out among as many houses as possible. The only reason Harry didn't go to Hufflepuff is that Dumbledore expected him in Gryffindor and might have become suspicious if he ended up anywhere else. Plus, with both him and Voldemort keeping such close watch on Harry, I thought it was best to team him up with another of us.

"One thing we have to work on is finding someone to recruit from Hufflepuff. Everyone keep their eyes open. I'm going to talk to the Sorting hat this weekend about who went there this year, to see what he thinks of them."

Turning back to the unconscious form on the floor, Damon added, "Lets find out who this is then."

Releasing the full body bind, they woke him with another spell. 'Scabbers' stumbled to his feet and began searching for any means of escape. Not wanting to spend too much time dealing with the strange man's foolishness, Damon waved a hand in front of rat-man's face and intoned, "Cairdeas Cengal!"

The strange wizards form completely relaxed, surprising everybody in the room but Damon when he smiled brightly at them all.

"Feeling better then?" asked Damon in mock concern.

"Much, thank Damon," the rat replied.

"You know us?"

Nodding eagerly, 'Scabbers' answered, "Of course, I've known Ron there since he was little. The rest of you, I learned about on the train… except Harry of course. I'd know him anywhere. He looks just like James."

Caught off guard, Damon asked "How do you know about… I mean what are you talking about?"

"James Potter, Harry's dad. The boy looks just like him when he was eleven… except the eyes, he has Lilly's eyes."

"Who are you, exactly?" asked the young druid. "And How do you know Harry's father?"

"I'm Peter Pettigrew; I was one of James' closest friends."

Pettigrew… the name was familiar somehow. Damon knew he'd Merrill mention the man, but it had been so long since they'd talked about his parents. Taking a step closer, he asked, "You knew them, then? M… Harry's mum and dad?"

Beaming with pride, Peter boasted, "I was one of the few people they trusted completely. They even made me their secret keeper."

Damon frowned at Pettigrew's last assertion. He remembered now, Merrill telling him what he'd learned of how the Potters had died. Voldemort had marked them for death and they had gone into hiding at James house in Godric's hollow. To protect their location they had placed the Fidelius charm over the house. But their secret keeper had been…

"Wait," said Damon. "I thought Black was the Potter's secret keeper. He betrayed them to Voldemort, then killed you and a street full of muggles the next day."

With a conspiratorial smile, Peter sneered, "That's what I got everyone to think."

A sick feeling seemed to settle in the pit of Damon's stomach. With cold eyes and an icy voice, he asked, "What really happened with the Potters and Black?"

Still blissfully unaware of the danger he'd put himself in, Pettigrew answered cheerfully, "James knew that someone near them was working for the Dark Lord. With a few, well chosen words, I got Sirius to suspect another friend of ours, Remus Lupin. They were still worried about the Dark lord finding them, so instead of Black becoming the secret keeper, they made me."

Damon's fists were clenched so tightly that his palms were bleeding where his fingernails cut into flesh. Still oblivious to the young druid's growing anger, Peter continued. "they had no idea that I was serving My Lord since seventh year. I told him where to find the Potters… you understand don't you Harry? He promised me such power… anyway after the Dark Lord vanished, I knew that Sirius would come looking for me. I made sure he met up with me on that street, I'd already prepared the curse that would blow up the street. All it took was a few weepy words from me and then after setting off the spell, I slipped away in the confusion. Fudge was so happy to have a scapegoat that he never even gave Sirius a trial… just threw him into Azkaban. I decided to lay low until my lord returns, and just happened on one of Ron's older brothers and I've been there ever since."

Three of the four boys stood, stunned by wormtail's flippant words. Ron and Draco looked horrified, while Harry seemed on the verge of tears. Damon's eyes were empty of all emotion, however as he stared coldly at the foolishly grinning traitor. The sing of a steel blade slipping from its sheath had the young druid's friends snap in his direction. Ron and Draco quickly tackled Damon and did their best to hold him back. They both knew Damon would regret it later if he killed Pettigrew in cold blood, even if the man so dearly deserved it. Peter, still in his own little world, just smiled happily as his new friends rolled around on the floor.

"Damon, Stop!" yelled Ron. "You can't just kill him."

"He killed… he killed Harry's parent," snarled the young druid. "He deserves to die!"

Draco, who had ended up sitting on Damon's sword arm to keep the boy from using it, thought quickly and asked, "What about Black then? If you kill the rat, no one will ever know he was innocent."

The young druid fought on for a few more seconds before going limp. Draco was right. As much as he wanted to take revenge for his parents, he needed to get Sirius Black out of Azkaban first. A girlish scream from Pettigrew reminded them that someone else would want revenge the traitor.

Harry didn't have a knife or the physical strength that Damon possessed from years of training. What he did have was the wandless spells taught them all by Merrill and his grandson. While the other three boys were otherwise occupied, Harry snapped out of his shock and gave Pettigrew a look of pure hatred. Raising his hand, the raven-haired boy snarled, "_Miodo'g o' Solas!"_ Two 'daggers of light,' or magic missiles, shot from his hand and into Peter's chest. The traitor's clothing, where the missiles had hit, vanished and the skin beneath it was horribly burned. Pettigrew fell in a whimpering heap on the floor, hugging his chest in pain.

Hardy finished, Harry cast another spell. This one ignited his hands so that bright flames seemed to envelope them. Harry stalked towards the fallen traitor, intent on choking the life from him or burning him up. Either would work for the raven-haired boy. Before he could reach him, however, Damon put himself between his brother and Pettigrew.

"Harry!" he yelled. "I want him to pay as much as you do." Pulling his brother into a tight hug, Damon whispered, "We'll make him pay for every second we had to live without them… but not yet. We need him alive for a little longer… Please, Harry."

The raven-haired boy, the flames on his hands flickering out, collapsed against his brother and began to cry in earnest. Pettigrew, somewhat recovered from the magic missiles and free of the charm that Damon had put over him, started to crawl away until he felt a foot stomp savagely on his hand. Peter squealed piggishly as Draco knelt over him with a sadistic grin on his face.

"I'd stay put if I were you. I don't think you want any of us any madder at you than we are now."

Damon looked up from his brother and waved Ron over. "You two go back to your dorm, Draco, you too. I'll take care of Pettigrew." At their wary looks, the young druid laughed grimly, don't worry, I'm going to take him to grandfather. It looks like everything else will wait for tomorrow. Tonight I think I have other business."

Doing nothing to repair the traitor's injuries, Damon put Peter back into a body bind and grabbed the tatters the man's robes and vanished.

It was a dark and stormy night. The haggard and miserable man lying in a stone cell huffed in sick amusement. All of the nights were dark and stormy here. For nearly ten years he had been trapped behind these walls for a crime he wasn't allowed to commit.

When they had locked them up, they'd said it was or the betrayal of his best friend and his family to the dark lord along with the murder of Peter Pettigrew and thirteen muggles. Sirius didn't argue with the first charge. He betrayed James and Lilly by trusting Peter. As for the other charges… well Sirius knew that he'd never killed anyone and the only one he wanted to kill had caused all his pain.

There were two things that kept Sirius Black from giving up to the madness that threatened him daily. Pettigrew was still out there and Sirius so wanted revenge. Someone else was out there, however.

Harry.

James' son was still alive and should be starting Hogwarts this year. For Harry, he wouldn't give up. If he thought the boy was in danger, Sirius knew these walls wouldn't be able to stop him from going to his godson. But that was neither here nor there. The night was cold and wet; Sirius could feel the wet cough starting again and hoped that he wouldn't be coughing up blood like the last time.

Lightning flashed again and Sirius stiffened. Something was different about his cell. Thunder still crashed outside and the wind howled just outside the window, but nothing was coming in. Lightning flashed again, still showing the room to be dank and depressing. Still, the temperature in the room rose noticeably and the nagging feeling of despair that the dementor's presence caused, faded away. Sirius gasped and tried to struggle to his feet after the next lightning flash. There were two figures in hooded cloaks standing against the far wall. The taller wore a beard that just peaked out of the shadow of his hood. The smaller of the two could almost be a child, by his height. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head fiercely. 'No…' he'd lasted this long, he wasn't going to go mad now.

"Sirius Black," said the taller figure. "we need to talk."

* * *

Okies kiddies, sorry it took so long. But I'm slowing down on my writing. Plus, I'm thinking about starting book2 of blind faith and alternating between the two with updates.

Uten: Glad you like the story, and hey your memory may be bad but your perceptions are spot-on. I've updated the sketch on my boi-page, take a look, see what you think.

Shade Dancer: you can see how long this chapter ended up being, so many of your questions may have to wait a bit to be answered. You can see that Damon isn't stingy about his blade, however, he wanted to give it to Peter… tip first!


	5. Rescues and Potions

DA2-5

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related materials are property of J.K. Rowling. I, on the other hand am Elmer J. Fudd, Miwwionheir. I own a mansion and a yacht.

Druid's Apprentice: The Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 5

Though he was Loathe to admit it, Damon Forester was exhausted. Normally, he could go several days and not feel any worse for his lack of sleep. The events of the past few days, however, had him a bit overwhelmed.

Sitting cross-legged on his bed with the canopy closed, and nothing covering his bare skin except a sheet bunched around his waist, Damon worked to put himself into a restful trance. Nothing would feel better to him at that moment than the idea of sleeping for a week. The problem was, he'd spent a sleepless night rescuing a tortured member of the remainder of his family, and he had to be up for classes in less than an hour.

Moments went by, and Damon felt his breathing and heartbeat slow. Muscles all over his body began to relax one by one as the young druid let the past twenty-four hours, and the events that led to them, play through his head again.

Ten years earlier, Damon's parents had been killed, and his godfather framed for their betrayal and murder. The person who had caused such tragedy hadn't been some faceless minion of the Dark Lord, rather a trusted and dear friend, Peter Pettigrew. The traitor vanished, faking his own death to seal the fate of Sirius Black.

Peter continued to watch the wizarding world, however, looking for any sign that his fallen master might return. He allowed himself to be taken as a pet by young Percy Weasley, and had been passed on, brother to brother, until he was given to Ron. Wormtail's ruse had worked until Damon, actually seeing the rat for the first time, recognised him for what he truly was.

Damon captured Peter and used an ancient charm to coax a confession from the traitor's lips. Hearing the full story of his parent's betrayal that Halloween night so many years ago, it was all Damon could do to restrain himself from killing the rat. It was his own inner struggle, however, that nearly allowed Harry to do what vengeance demanded.

Saving the traitor's life had been one of the hardest things Damon had ever done. The twisted little man deserved nothing better than slow and very painful death. If nothing else had mattered, Damon would have done it right there, interfering friends or not. The only problem being that another's life depended on Peter's continued existence.

Pettigrew was the key to Sirius Black's freedom. A confession from the rat would exonerate Damon's godfather and allow Wormtail to take his place in Azkaban. Rather than going straight to the headmaster, however, Damon transported the rat and himself to Forester Manor, bringing him before Merrill. The reaction of Damon's grandfather to the news was surprising, to say the least.

CRASH!

Another bookcase collapsed as Merrill magically threw Peter, yet again, against a wall of the Library.

"Traitor," Merrill spat at the broken little man lying on a pile of torn books. "Filth, you betrayed your dearest friends – my granddaughter… for what? Did your Dark Lord offer you power?" A sweep of the old druid's arm sent Wormtail against the far wall with bone crushing force. "Was it money?" Again, Peter took flight, this time to crash into the fireplace, where flames licked at his exposed flesh. "Was it for your life, Peter?" Merrill hissed, still audible, even over the rat's screams. A flick of one hand sent Peter on a mad slide across the floor, and into the leg of a table. A thin, battered stick fell off it and onto Peter's chest, his wand.

New energy seemed to run through Wormtail as he recognised a chance at escape. Clasping the wand in his battered hand, only two of those fingers remained intact and unbroken; he raised it toward the old druid as he tried to clear his head.

"Going to curse me, traitor?" hissed Merrill in scorn. Suddenly his voice became much softer as he approached the rat. "I _am_ going to kill you, you know. Something slow and quite painful I assure you. If I have anything to say about it, you'll not leave this room alive. This is it then, the only way you'll live to see the dawn is if I die. Curse me traitor. Kill me like you did my family!"

Merrill closed his eyes and opened his arms as if awaiting the embrace of a long lost love. Peter, afraid it was some kind of trap, but sure he'd get no other chance at escape, gathered his courage and stuttered "_Av… Avada Kedavra!_" The words rang through the air and Peter waited for the expected rush of power he felt every time he cast the spell. He continued waiting for a long moment, till he realized it hadn't come. Confused, Peter cast it again, still without result. Fear gripped the rat's heart anew as Merrill dropped his arms and glared at him again with a predatory smile.

Not wanting to face the strange and frightening wizard again, Peter tried to Apparate. It wasn't that the room was warded against it, Peter knew how that felt. It was if the power to do so had fled him. Seeking escape another way, he tried to transform into his animagus shape. That too, eluded him. A look of horror crept across Wormtail's face as he realized, "my magic…."

"It's gone," finished Merrill with relish. "For a time, anyway, you're nothing better than a muggle." Closing the distance between them smoothly, and taking Peter's face in his hands, Merrill purred in the rat's ear, "I need to know everything you've done for your master, every betrayal, every sick errand and report. Look at me Peter – look into my eyes."

Watching the whole scene from a doorway, Damon stood in awe and not a little fear of his grandfather's power. The rat whimpered and twitched, then screamed as Merrill forcefully sifted through fifteen to twenty years of memories. The druid took Peter back to the first moment where jealousy of his friends had begun turning to hate.

Damon didn't know exactly what his grandfather was seeing in the rat's mind, in all honesty, he didn't care. Whatever demons had driven Pettigrew to commit his heinous acts, he had allowed them to do so. After nearly half hour, Peter's hoarse screams faded away, and Merrill released the rat, who fell in a boneless heap at his feet. Casting a quick spell, Merrill changed Pettigrew back into his animagus form and placed him in a conjured cage.

"Get your cloak."

Merrill didn't explain where they were going, he really didn't have to. Sirius Black was Damon's godfather, and therefore family. Both of them had lost too much to allow Sirius to remain a prisoner in that hellish place.

Twenty minutes later, the two druids stood invisibly in an Azkaban prison cell. Silently casting several wards and glamours to hide their presence, Merrill negated their invisibility and raised both the light and temperature in the room.

"Sirius Black, we need to talk."

The hunched form on the floor flinched a bit at the sound of human voices. Slowly pushing himself to a sitting position, Black glared at the two intruders in his cell. Using the momentary silence created by their little standoff, Damon studied his godfather.

Ten years in Azkaban had left its mark on Sirius. The wizard was dirty, pale and gaunt. Long greasy black hair hung wildly about his face, while a ragged cough racked his too-thin body. Sirius wore a tattered striped prison uniform that barely sufficed as a covering, much less providing any protection from the elements.

"I've finally lost it then," grunted Black. "Ten years of trying to hold on to my sanity, and now I've gone starkers."

With a snort, Merrill conjured a table with three chairs. On it was a loaf of bread, cheese, and a pitcher of water.

"Have a seat, Black," Merrill said lightly. "Mad or not, I've some questions for you."

Keeping a suspicious eye on the two cloaked figures, Sirius poked at the stool before him as if it would vanish at any moment. Feeling the solid wood under his hand, Sirius grudgingly admitted to himself that he wasn't imagining it, and levered himself onto the stool.

Waiting until he was seated, the two cloaked forms sat down across the table from him and lowered their hoods. Sirius gasped when he got a close look at the shorter of the two.

A child!

'Nobody so young should have to see the inside of Azkaban.' Sirius thought as he studied the boy carefully; The boy had a mane of shaggy brown hair and blue eyes that seemed so old…. Sirius knew he'd never seen the boy before, but there was something so familiar about him. The old man, though, gave him the creeps.

At first glance, the old man resembled Dumbledore quite a bit. He had the same long white hair and beard, though trimmed neatly. His face was weathered, ancient and ageless; the man could say he was anywhere from seventy to seven hundred and Black thought he would have no trouble believing him. It was when he looked into those eyes, though, that Sirius felt a tremble of fear. The headmaster's sky-blue eyes twinkled with a mirth that put everyone at ease. This man's eyes were hard as steel, and a shade of green that he hadn't seen in ten long years.

"Eat," the old man bade him. "I need your head clear for what we need to discuss." Merrill smiled thinly as Sirius regarded the food and drink suspiciously. "If I'd wanted you dead, I wouldn't go to all this trouble. As you can see, the wards here set up to dampen magic don't affect me or my grandson." The old druid said, patting Damon's hand. "We don't mean you any harm… we just need to talk to you."

Tentatively at first, then with more confidence, Sirius tested the bread and cheese, and then attacked it with fierce abandon. It was no ordinary bread that Sirius ate, either. Elvin trail bread, or Mannam as they called it, gave a day's nourishment in a single mouthful. It tasted wonderful, and Sirius felt satisfied after just a few bites. Merrill pushed him to eat more, though, he needed much as he could get to help recover from his treatment there.

They had every intention of freeing Black from the prison, regardless of how he answered their questions, but Merrill wanted to be sure that Sirius could control his need for vengeance; to see if he was trustworthy to keep the order's secrets. For that, he didn't want the wizard's mind clouded with hunger.

"Slowly," The old druid admonished. "You aren't used to large amounts of food yet. My name is Merrill Forester," he said, introducing them as Sirius ate. "And this is my grandson, Damon. We've come here because we know you're innocent of the crime you were accused of. We know that ten years ago, James and Lilly Potter died at the hands of Lord Voldemort. You were supposed to be the secret keeper, but changed it at the last moment. The man you switched with was the traitor, Peter Pettigrew. It wasn't your fault."

"No… It was."

Leaning closer, Merrill gazed intently into Sirius' eyes and asked, "How was it your fault?"

"James…" Sirius began, choking on his own words. "James, Lilly and Harry were in Danger. Vol – Voldemort had singled them out for some reason and they had to go into hiding. Dumbledore thought it best if they stay at an order safe house in Godric's Hollow under the Fidelius. We knew there was a leak in the order, however. We didn't know who it was, but James knew… he _thought_ he could trust me. I was to be their secret keeper."

"But you weren't," Merrill supplied. "Someone talked you out of it."

"Wormtail," Sirius spat. "He said things about Remus, they weren't lies, but the way he put it… Peter had me believing Remus was the traitor. He convinced me that Mooney would know I was secret keeper and deliver me to Voldemort." Sirius laughed bitterly and shook his head in disgust. "The little bastard convinced me to change secret keepers. Somehow it became my idea to make it him.

"When it happened, the attack, I remember suddenly knowing where the safe house was. I knew James wouldn't have cancelled the spell. The only other way it could fail is if he was…"

"You went to the house?" Merrill asked quietly.

Nodding weakly, Black continued. "When I saw the house, I knew. It was in ruins and it felt… dead. I knew that Voldemort had been here, I knew nobody could survive, but I had to go in, to see what I had done."

"Your friends?" Merrill prodded.

"James… James was at the bottom of the stairs. Merlin – the look on his face…. I wanted to die right then with him, but then I heard Harry."

"Your friend's son."

"My godson. I could hear him crying upstairs. I didn't know how, but he'd survived. I'd hoped for a moment that maybe they both had."

"Lily," the old druid whispered.

"She was on the floor in front of the crib. Her hair was spread out about her head in waves. Her eyes, her beautiful green eyes…" Sirius choked back a small sob "I had a thing for her in school, I could never have told James. It broke my heart when they fell in love but I was happy for them too. This…"

"Voldemort must have killed her to get to Harry. I didn't know that You-Know-Who had disappeared and I was clueless why Harry had survived. I only knew that he was crying and reaching up to be held. I picked him up and got us out of that house as fast as I could."

"Harry was sent to live with his aunt and uncle. You were his godfather, why did you leave him?" Merrill asked with great intensity, as he stared into the convict's eyes.

"I… When we got outside the house, Hagrid was there. He said that Dumbledore had sent him to look for survivors. I should've stayed with Harry, I should've…. It was my fault though; I needed to take my anger out on someone, so I went after Peter. I gave Harry to Hagrid and left. I found Peter on a street filled with muggles when I found him. He began raving at how I'd betrayed James and Lily. In hindsight, I should have known what he was doing, but he'd always been so – _weak_ and slow. Peter used a blasting curse on the street, and there was an explosion. I was laying half stunned as he almost casually cut off his own finger then changed into the rat and ducked into a storm drain."

Sirius dropped his head onto the table, unable to meet Merrill's hard gaze. He knew they had to hate him as much as he did himself. He was surprised, then, when he felt a small hand take hold of his. Looking up, he gazed into the intense and almost tearful eyes of Damon.

"You didn't betray them," the young druid said earnestly. "Peter deceived you all." For ten years, Sirius had blamed himself for what had happened to his friends. It was a truth that had tortured him every moment of his life since. The look on this young boy's face, a child that was likely the same age as his godson, felt like an absolution. The guilt and shame that Sirius had carried around with him since his friends deaths poured out of him in a flow of tears.

They all sat there wordlessly as Sirius slowly collected himself after his emotional release. Merrill, coming to the real reason behind their visit, asked. "If you could get out of this prison tonight, what would you do?

"Pettigrew…. Peter caused all this," growled Black dazedly. "I'd hunt him down and tear him to pieces!"

"Really," the old druid whispered. "You'd get your revenge and finally earn your cell in Azkaban… What about Harry?"

The predatory gleam that had begun to glow in Sirius' eyes blinked out of existence at his godson's name. "Harry."

"You know that you'd go straight back to Azkaban once you were caught; Harry would have no family left what so ever."

"But Peter…."

"What is more important to you Black, Revenge or Harry?"

"I couldn't face him," Sirius whispered. I've failed him every way possible. If he's lucky, maybe he'll never even know I exist."

Damon's grip on Sirius' hand became painful as the young druid held on tightly. "Don't you think that he'd want to know you? Harry doesn't have a lot of family left, and nobody that was closely tied to his parents as you."

As Damon spoke, things about his appearance began to change. The shaggy mane of sandy brown hair on his head darkened to a pitch black. His deep blue eyes shifted colour, slowly turning to an emerald green. Finally, a lightning bolt scar seemed to climb from under his collar, up the side of his face, to find a home on the boy's forehead.

"Harry needs you," Damon said as he stepped around the table to stand at his godfather's side. "I need you."

Falling off the stool, Sirius knelt in front of Damon and reached out to touch the boy's cheek. He stopped just before he would have made contact, though. 'It has to be a trick of the dementors,' he thought to himself deliriously, some torture dreamed up by his jailors.

Reaching up, Damon took Sirius' hand and gently placed it against his cheek. They stood there for an endless moment, caught in each other's gaze. Seemingly unable to take a full breath, Black's chest heaved with emotion. Taking a small step forward, Damon pulled his godfather into a tight embrace. Sirius held the boy gingerly at first. Holding his 'Harry' tighter as the moments passed, until Damon's ribs creaked. Desperate sobs came from Sirius as he buried his face in the crook of his godson's neck.

Looking up at his grandfather as Sirius cried into his shoulder, Damon blinked away his own tears and nodded slightly to his mentor.

At the young druid's signal, Merrill drew out a tiny mouse and softly cast a spell, "_Leathchulpa Gan Anam._" A soft, silvery glow surrounded Sirius first, and then a tendril of the light snaked out and attached itself to the mouse. The tiny form seemed unaffected at first, and then it slowly began to shift and grow. Taking on human proportions, the changeling took form and features of the convict. Hearing a noise, Sirius looked up into the blank eyes of his double.

"What is that?" Damon's godfather gasped.

"A changeling," explained Merrill patiently as he guided the 'new' Sirius to sit on the straw mat. "The faeries used this spell when they stole the babes of peasants. The changeling would look the same as the original child, but would be essentially mindless. That was more than a thousand years ago, however. After the ministry came to power, the faerie population was forced stay inside their magical forests, and abductions ceased. It's doubtful anybody remembers even hearing of this spell, much less recognising a duplicate created by using it."

"I'm no baby," growled Sirius with a grin, feeling a little of his old spirit returning with Harry in his arms.

"Quite right, still, our vacant friend will serve his purpose and make it look like you finally went nutters in here."

"I don't look like that," barked Sirius, running his hands self-consciously through his greasy, unkempt hair. "How long will this thing last, anyway?"

"Two or three years," answered Damon as he studied Merrill's creation critically. "If the magic runs out before the mouse dies, then the changeling will just disappear, and all that will be left is the mouse. If the mouse dies first, then they'll probably bury what they think is your body in the Azkaban cemetery." Looking up to his grandfather, Damon took on a confused look and asked, "But why bother with all this, Granddad? We could have Sirius cleared tomorrow."

"I want him cleared too, lad." Merrill answered, ruffling the boy's hair. Sirius, totally lost, just looked between the two in confusion. "Voldemort is going to rise again soon, if not this year, then before you leave school. We need to know what both sides are planning in this war if we're going to do what's necessary.

Knowing what Dumbledore is planning will be easy, he'll have Ha… James and likely Ron as his best friend, inside the headmaster's little order. Pettigrew was trying to become Voldemort's favourite lackey when everything fell apart. You have to admit, using him to spy on his _Dark Lord_ would be a bit of poetic justice."

"Wait…" Sirius broke in. "What about Peter?" His face darkened as realization dawned. "You know where he is!"

"We can talk about this at the manor," answered Merrill in a commanding tone. "There's quite a lot we need to discuss, and there are better places to do it. Damon, change back and we'll be on our way." Placing a hand on each of their shoulders, Merrill whispered a quiet spell and the three vanished, along with the table, chairs and all the protections that had kept the cell secure.

Lying alone on the floor, the figure on the floor stared off into space. The room grew dark and cold again, the silence only broken by occasional thunder and a hollow racking cough.

"Damon!" Terry, anxious to start is first day of classes, ripped open the drapes of his new friend's bed, to find him sitting up cross legged, his hands on his knees. Damon's eyes were closed and he was bare chested, with the covers bunched up around his waist. Terry shifted uncomfortably on his feet; uncertain what was going on, or how long his friend had been sitting like that. His gaze was drawn to his friend's bare chest, and he was intrigued by how muscular the other boy was. That, along with a variety of scars that decorated Damon's skin only raised more questions in the young Ravenclaw's mind.. Only a few moments went by before the young druid opened his eyes and smiled at his friend.

"Morning."

"It's time for breakfast," said Terry excitedly, snapping out of his stare. "Classes start today too. Did you want to go down to breakfast together? I bet Mandy is down in the common room now; she's an early riser like me. Are you an early riser? What were you doing in bed just now? Where did you get all those scars? Why does the one on your shoulders look like claws? I got clawed by my sister's cat once but it was little. Are you ready to go downstairs yet?"

Damon gaped at his new friend for a moment and couldn't stifle a giggle. "Of course, I'll go with you; yes I'm an early riser; I was meditating; Grandfather and I go hunting a lot and a big cat scratched me; and finally, yeah I'll be ready to go down as soon as I get dressed," Damon answered all Terry's as best he could as he jumped out from under the covers to get his clothes. "Maybe you should get dressed too, unless you're going to the Great Hall in your pyjamas." Blushing, Terry scampered over to his own trunk to prepare for the day.

Ten minutes later, the three Ravenclaw first years were walking into the great Hall while the boys argued about Quidditch with Cho. "Marsters is the best seeker in the UK," the second year said, waving her arms in the air. "How can you possibly think the Tornadoes could lose to the _Cannons_!"

"I didn't say that they _would_," answered Damon as they sat down at their table. "It's just that the Tornado's defence is kind of weak. The Cannon's beaters don't only work at keeping the other team's chasers busy, they go after the seeker too. Marsters will be spending so much time dodging Bludgers; he'll never have time to find the Snitch..."

Damon continued arguing with Cho all through breakfast, at the same time, he was scanning the Great Hall for his other friends. Draco was at the Slytherin table, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Though playing the part of a pampered git, Damon could See Draco's eyes darting left and right, gauging the other's expressions as he made some of his more outrageous comments about muggleborns. Catching his eyes for a moment, they shared the barest nods. Moving on, Damon scanned the Gryffindor table for his other two friends.

Ron and Harry sat with their new housemates, laughing at some story being told by a boy with a thick Irish brogue. Ron seemed fine, but the smile on Harry's face never quite reached his eyes. Damon made a decision to get Harry and Sirius together as soon as possible, after his godfather had recovered somewhat and completely understood what was going on. He and his grandfather had spent most of the early morning hours trying to explain to Sirius about Harry and the fact that he was just as much James' son as Damon was. Sirius still hadn't gotten his head around it, however, and Merrill thought that any meetings between him and Harry should wait until the weekend at least.

Damon's chain of thought was broken by Professor Flitwick as the tiny man passed out their schedules.

"First period is double potions with Hufflepuff," Terry said thoughtfully as they read them over. "I'm good at them and all, but Professor Snape, doesn't he seem –"

"A bit uptight?" Damon asked in response. "I met him in Diagon Alley shopping with Draco once, Severus is his godfather. I think most of how he treats people is an act."

"Severus?" Terry squeaked. "Who's acting, Snape or Malfoy?"

"Both really, I'll introduce you to Draco if we can catch him alone. He's a totally different person away from the Slytherins.

Breakfast ended and Damon got up with his friends to get their potions supplies. Sparing a quick glance at the Gryffindor table, He could see that Harry was looking a bit better. Still, the young druid knew he would need to sit with is twin at their meeting that night for reassurance.

After retrieving their supplies and locating the potions classroom, a dank, dark room in the castle dungeons, Terry and Mandy took a table together while Damon went to sit with a Hufflepuff named Ernie Macmillan. The boy seemed likable enough, if a bit pretentious. Any chance to talk with him was interrupted, however, as the classroom door burst open.

"There will be no silly wand waving in my class," the potions-master began. Damon loved potions most of all his classes. From what he'd read, it had strayed the least from its origin thousands of years ago. He felt a real sense of accomplishment in harvesting and preparing potion ingredients, then combining them in such a way that a useful and magical potion was produced.

The class went quickly; after roll and a few questions by Snape to test their knowledge, he started them on a simple boil-removal potion. It wasn't the same one that Merrill had taught him, but it was close enough that Damon had no problems understanding how it worked.

He spent most of the next hour coaching Ernie on the correct preparation of the ingredients. The Hufflepuff looked ready to complain at first, but realized quickly that Damon knew what he was talking about. Half way through, Snape began watching them, Ernie following Damon's quiet instruction and becoming more confident as they went. Before finishing, the Ravenclaw couldn't help but make a few changes that made the potion a bit better; he hoped the potions-master wouldn't mind too much.

Nearly a quarter-hour before most of the others, Damon and Ernie were just finishing up labelling a sample of potion for grading, when Professor Snape loomed over their table. Dipping the ladle back into their cauldron, the potions-master eyed it critically.

"An adequate potion," Snape said grudgingly, but a bit off colour."

"My fault sir," Damon admitted. "I added Aloe in the base and Royal Jelly after the porcupine quills had dissolved. My grandfather makes a similar potion at home, and I know that adding them helps the skin heal better without scarring."

Frowning deeply, the Potions Master stared deeply into Damon's eyes. "That potion is over five-hundred years old. I would sincerely doubt that you could do anything to make it more efficient." Damon stared back at the Professor without blinking, while trying to keep a neutral expression. Ernie, on the other hand was having problems holding his water. "Still, the potion is made and you have my curiosity piqued. Bottle up the rest of it and bring it to my desk along with the one you have labelled. As it is, I'm taking three points from both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff for not following directions."

Damon was able to keep his reaction unreadable and just nodded as the professor took points. Ernie, on the other hand, squeaked, and then moaned in fear of what his housemates would say at him costing them points so early in the year. After that, Ernie refused to talk to Damon anymore, just gave him angry looks whenever their eyes met. The bell rang, a few minutes later, and everybody cleaned up their work areas and gathered their books to head to their next class, all except Damon.

Asking his friends to wait for him outside, the young druid went up to the Professor's desk and waited to be recognised.

"What is it Forester, you haven't come to try weaselling out of your lost points, I'd hope."

"No sir," Damon replied. "It's just that Ernie didn't really have anything to do with the changes to the potion; he shouldn't have had any points taken."

"How very Gryffindor of you, Mr Forester," Snape said with a sneer, though there was no real malice in his voice. "I take it then, that when you tried to add these extra ingredients, Mr Macmillan attempted to stop you?"

"No sir," Damon replied. "I don't think he realized they weren't a part of it."

"That alone should be reason for him to lose house points," Snape replied. "Do you understand how dangerous this class is Damon? Something as simple as putting porcupine quills in at the wrong time could create an explosion."

"But I _do_ understand that professor!" Damon exclaimed. I've been studying potions under my grandfather since I was six years old!"

"Prove it to me then," the professor barked. "Give me two feet of parchment describing the components you added to the formula and their effects. If you can make me believe that you knew what you were doing, and the potions act as you say, I'll return the points I've taken and award another five on top of it."

"What about…"

"Mr Macmillan only followed your directions making the potion. He's lucky I didn't take more. If you want to keep your partners from losing points, I'd suggest you make sure they _understand_ what you're doing."

"Yes sir, Damon answered before running from the room, he wasn't totally happy with how the conversation with Snape had gone, but it could have been worse. Meeting up with his friends, they ran all the way to History of magic together.

'Professor Binns has to be the most boring teacher in the history of the world,' the young druid thought to himself after it had ended. Merrill had told him all about the goblin rebellions somewhere around his eighth birthday. When his grandfather had told it, the battles, and even the politics behind them were exciting and had him on the edge of his seat. Five minutes into the ghost's lecture, Damon nearly fell asleep in his chair. The difference between somebody that knew history, and someone that actually lived it was never so apparent to him as it was now.

After lunch Damon had Herbology, followed by Transfiguration. The hour with Prof. Sprout went well; Damon didn't raise his hand much, but helped Terry and Mandy when they didn't understand something the Professor was saying.

Transfiguration was actually difficult for Damon. It seemed that Wanded spells were more of a problem for him than he would have thought. "It's like trying to tie your shoes wearing heavy gloves," Ron would complain later that night. Still, Damon muddled through, and actually thought it would be helpful, breezing through every class would definitely draw unwanted attention to them.

Dinner got Damon a few odd stares as he joined Ron and Harry at their table. Except for the odd look, (not a few were from Hufflepuff, as Ernie had told them what had happened with Snape) things went fine. Going back up to their tower, Damon and his friends sat in the common room doing their homework. Finally, when everybody had settled in bed, Damon snuck back down and took the secret door to the Pendragon Common Room.

Harry, who had already been there with Ron, jumped up as soon as Damon entered. "What happened last night after we left?" he demanded.

Taking Harry back to the couch, Damon sat them both down. Putting a free arm around him, Damon explained, very graphically, what Merrill had done in questioning the rat. When Damon told them about rescuing Sirius, Harry became excited, intrigued by the possibility of meeting someone that knew his parents.

"Damon," Harry asked "Last night, when you stopped me from… when you stopped me. You said that you'd make him pay for what he did to _us,_ why did you say that?"

Glad he'd thought about his slip up the night before, Damon answered glibly. "Ever since I started living with my grandfather, I've kind of thought of you as the little brother I'd never had." Damon explained, pleased that in a way, he wasn't really lying. "When you hurt, so do I. What the rat did to you, it felt like he did to me too, you're my little brother now, and never forget that."

"You're a day younger than me," Harry said accusingly with a grin. "How did I become the little brother?"

"Because you're a midget?" Ron asked from by the fireplace, grinning madly.

"And you're a Weasel," Draco said, coming in the door. "What did I miss?"

"Not much," Damon answered. "Sirius black is at the manor recovering, Granddad is thinking of using the rat as a spy for Voldemort, and Harry is a midget."

"Stop!" laughed the raven-haired boy. "I'm not that small!"

"We start looking for potential order members in earnest, starting tomorrow," Damon went on, turning serious. "Tonight, get some sleep; it's going to be a long year."

* * *

_Leathchulpa Gan Anam: _Twin without soul

I'll apologise now for how this chapter came out. I dont think its _bad,_ maybe just not as good as you guys are used to. Oh yea, and Serius' blubbering in the cell... in my opinion, he would be immensely emotionally vulnerable then.

And sorry for the delay.

I'll do review response for the last chapter in my yahoo group tomorrow. The address is is on my bio page.


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